


Magic Is Emotion

by Iverna



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iverna/pseuds/Iverna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Emma accidentally hurts Killian when she loses control of her magic, she decides that it's for the best if they stay away from each other. But magic is emotion, and feelings can't just be suppressed, and maybe it's time to stop running...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic Is Emotion

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this manip](http://ivernasolo.tumblr.com/post/98412874302/stolen-moments-in-storybrooke-photo-credit-x) I made.

Killian is surprised how much it hurts this time.

He has lost Emma before – when the curse hit, when she told him that she loved another man, when she was determined to go back to New York, when Zelena forced him to betray her. He’s familiar with that heart-wrenching feeling, the way it twists inside him and leaves emptiness, but only now does he realise that every time until now it was overshadowed by the regret of _what if_. He didn’t really _have_ her, before.

This time is different. When she looks him in the eye and tells him that she was wrong to think they could make this work, when he realises that she really means it, he swears that he can actually feel his heart breaking.

He knows her reason – she’s terrified of her own power, terrified of hurting him again. He wants to argue, to try and reassure her that she won’t, that he trusts her, that it doesn’t matter. But he’s already told her that and more besides, and his heart breaks a little more when he realises that there’s nothing more he can do. He has done everything he can, and it’s not enough.

“I’d fight for you, love,” he tells her quietly. “I’d fight the world for you if needs be. But I won’t fight you.”

She looks at him for a long moment, and then she turns and walks away. And he knows that there are tears running down her face and everything in him yearns to run after her and pull her into his arms, but he can’t do that anymore.

He’s no stranger to heartbreak. At least Emma isn’t actually gone; she’s alive and well and he still sees her, by necessity, because they have to work together. He keeps his distance, retreats behind his pirate attitude, although his remarks come out more cynical than sarcastic now. He still looks for her whenever he walks into the diner, or her parents’ apartment, or the sheriff’s station, or anywhere, really. Sometimes, he catches her eye by accident, and sometimes he swears that she starts to smile before she remembers.

He takes the first chance he gets to get blind drunk. It’s been a little over three days – three days, four hours, and forty minutes, but who’s counting? – during which he’s seen far too much and far too little of her. He goes with Robin to the Rabbit Hole, and the next morning the pounding in his head almost drowns out the emptiness in his chest.

David shows up with insistent knocking, arched eyebrows, and a packet of tiny pills.

“Painkillers,” he explains, holding one out to Killian along with a glass of water. “I figured you could use them.”

It’s another reminder of how new he is to this realm, how out of place. But they go on the list of advantages, because the pain in his head does recede faster than he expects.

They don’t work on the pain in his heart.

“Thanks, mate,” he says when David comes back an hour later to check on him. He even manages to force a smile when David asks how he is. “I’m fine. Tell me, how’s the little one?”

But for once, David doesn’t seem interested in talking about his son. “He’s great. I’m more concerned about you. Emma won’t talk to me. What happened?”

He’s been dreading this moment. He fought tooth and nail to be good enough, to be accepted, to win David’s approval as well as Emma’s. It was a tall order, and much of it hinged on not letting her down. But that’s exactly what he’s done.

And he can’t even put it into words. He doesn’t want to put it into words. All he can manage is a shrug.

But David has paid attention, not that it’s likely to have been difficult to figure out, and says, “She ended things, didn’t she?”

_Things_. That’s certainly one way of putting it. “Aye.”

“And you?”

Killian’s jaw clenches. “She’s made her wishes clear.”

“So you’re just giving up?” David demands. “I thought it meant something to you.”

That strikes something inside him, past the lingering nausea and headache and everything else, and he’s on his feet in an instant. “It means _everything_ ,” he grinds out. “Everything. I didn’t give up. I’d fight for her in an instant if I had the chance. But she’s made a decision, and the only thing I’ll accomplish by attempting to change her mind is remind her of what she can’t have and thus hurt her even more.”

“She told you that?”

“Aye.”

He expects disappointment. What he gets is a look of sympathy and a sigh, and he still can’t quite believe it even after David leaves.

Maybe it wasn’t all entirely in vain. The thought is reaffirmed when he goes downstairs to get some breakfast – well, lunch, but who cares – and gets smiles from Ruby and Granny and some of the other patrons. Ruby takes one look at him and brings him a coffee, on the house. And Killian realises, more than he did before, that he has earned a place here. Not much of one, not yet, but enough to stay. He’s lost Emma, but he still has this. He’s not alone.

But the pain in his heart has settled in, it seems, for the long haul.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a week – six days, nineteen hours, and about thirty-five minutes, but who’s counting? – when Regina finally loses the last bit of her patience.

“Right, that’s it,” she snaps when Emma fails once again to transport an apple from the table to the counter. “Either you stop holding back, or we’re done.”

“I’m not holding back,” Emma protests.

Regina rolls her eyes. “Yes, you are. And I’ve had enough. You can come back when you’ve sorted things out with the pirate.”

That makes Emma’s heart give a traitorous leap. “What?”

“You heard me.” Regina gives her an arch look, arms crossed. “Magic is emotion, and yours are all over the place right now. You’re not concentrating, and you’re holding back because you’re afraid. If you want to use magic, you need to stop. And that means working out whatever is going on with you and Hook.”

“There’s nothing going on with me and Hook.” Even his name lingers painfully in her mouth, on lips that remember his kisses far better than she wants them to.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Regina says. “I meant the _other_ pirate, the one you can’t stop thinking about, the one you’re so scared of hurting, the one who could make me a fortune if I found a way to bottle unrequited love and pining looks.”

Emma’s jaw clenches. She’s tried not to think about how she’s hurt him, but if she’s perfectly honest, it’s never far from her mind. Sometimes, she has to physically restrain herself from reaching for him, especially when their eyes meet and she sees the heartbreak he’s trying so hard to hide. He can’t hide it from her. She _knows_ him.

But Regina isn’t finished. “You can’t just stop feeling, you know,” she says. “You can’t turn off your emotions. You need to _control_ them, otherwise they’ll control you. So work. It. Out. Until then, we’re done here.”

“What? No, no.” Emma shakes her head. “I need your help. I need to learn how to control my magic, otherwise—”

“Haven’t you been paying attention? Magic is emotion. How do you expect to control _anything_ if your feelings are a complete mess? It works the other way around. Control your feelings, and you’ll control your magic. Right now, you’re trying to shut everything off, which is why you can’t even poof an apple across the room even though you possess twice the raw talent I have. I can’t teach you if you refuse to co-operate.”

“Fine.” Emma blows out a breath, trying to clear her mind. “Let me try again.”

“I said we’re done.” Regina smiles, and it isn’t a nice smile. “In fact, I’m going to send you away with some homework. I don’t want you back here until you’ve either worked things out with Hook or gotten him out of your mind.”

Emma glares at her. “It’s not that simple.”

“I didn’t say it was simple.”

“I hurt him!” Emma bursts out. “You know I hurt him!”

Regina waves a careless hand. “So you knocked him into the wall. It was an accident. He’s fine.”

“What if I do it again?” Emma demands. “What if next time is worse, or I hurt Henry, or the baby?”

“If that’s what you’re afraid of, why haven’t you been avoiding them?” Regina answers her own question. “Because you know how you feel about them, don’t you? You can admit it. They don’t scare you.”

Emma knows that, but she still glares at Regina for saying it.

“Face it, Miss Swan, you’ve got exactly one problem and it’s called Captain Hook. And until you’ve worked that out, there’s no point in these lessons. I can’t help you. Besides,” and her expression loses some of its trademark haughtiness and her eyes seem to soften a little, “I’m pretty sure you’re already hurting him. Maybe you should ask him if this feels better than being knocked into a wall.”

It’s a thought that has been floating at the edge of Emma’s mind for almost a week, one she’s been trying to bat away. Regina’s words bring it crashing into the foreground, and her heart gives another painful little leap.

She’s still clenching her fists when she walks away from Regina’s house, the other woman’s reminder not to come back until she’s found a solution to her pirate problem still ringing in her ears. She takes her time walking to the car, settling behind the wheel, arranging her coat and her phone and her bag. She gets honked at twice on the way back to Granny’s because she’s driving so slowly that the car doesn’t make it out of second gear.

She doesn’t know how to fix this.

She has ended relationships before, but she has never tried to repair one. The closest she got was with Neal, and that was hardly her doing. He’d been the one to mess up, and he was the one trying to mend it. She isn’t good at making amends, and she definitely isn’t good at heart-to-heart. She has no idea where to start.

Her steps slow even more when she has parked the car and is walking towards the B&B. She changes her mind and takes the long way around, but she still has no idea what to do or say by the time she reaches the entrance to the diner.

He’s not there.

But Ruby is, and Ruby knows that he’s out back moving some supplies for Granny because apparently he wants to make himself useful. Emma thanks her and hurries out, doing her best to seem like the town sheriff on official business because the last thing she needs right now is a stupid comment from someone perceptive.

It takes her a full minute to catch her breath and compose herself and walk the last five steps to the back door door. Even then, she almost turns right around, but that won’t solve anything. She’s faced a dragon, she reminds herself. She can handle this, too.

She takes a deep breath and opens the door, stepping out into the street.

 

* * *

 

Killian’s first thought is that Granny is coming out to check on him – again – and the comment is on the tip of his tongue as he turns towards the door.

But it isn’t Granny. It’s Emma, and she looks worried.

“Swan,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She’s come to a stop, just looking at him, and he realises that worried isn’t entirely the right word for her expression. There’s a myriad of emotions in those green eyes.

He takes a hesitant step towards her. “What are you doing here?”

“I want—I need to talk to you.”

“I gathered that.” He thinks that maybe that came out a little harshly, and tries a smile. “Forgive me for saying so, but you look rather out of sorts. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She shakes her head. “I’m good, I just—Killian...”

The way she says his name sends a jolt through his chest, and he feels his jaw clench. He’s not ready for this. He wants to be, for her sake, but he wishes she would just come out with whatever she wants from him, and leave. It’s one thing to lose someone, he’s come to realise; it’s quite another to be confronted every day with what you’ve lost.

She takes a breath and lifts her chin, and now her expression is easy to place -- regret is something with which he’s far too familiar, and the look on her face is one he’s seen in the mirror often enough. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. For shutting you out, for—for everything.”

He has no idea what that means, but it’s clear that she’s upset, and he can’t help moving closer to her. “It’s all right.”

“Is it?” she asks, and he swears that he can see fear in her eyes. “Are you?”

He has to swallow. He might be inclined to pretend, for her sake, but he promised himself a long time ago that he is going to be honest with her. She knows that. So if she asks, she will get the truth. “No. I’m not. But I do understand.”

“I was wrong,” she says, and it’s almost a whisper. “About magic.” She clears her throat. “Regina set me straight. I can’t just pretend like it’s not there, like I don’t feel... what I feel.”

He’s really lost now, and she seems to realise it, because she shakes her head. Her hair shifts over her shoulders and he has to fight the urge to brush it back from her face the way he would have a week ago.

“Look, the point is... I wanted to ask you if maybe, I don’t know.” She runs a hand across her mouth and smiles. It’s a self-deprecating, regret-filled smile, but it’s a smile nonetheless, and it feels like a treasure. “I have no idea how to fix this, Killian. But I want to.”

For a second, he thinks she’s still talking about magic, but then he feels the world shift around him as he realises. And he should probably wait, and ask, and talk, and there are a million things he needs to say. But she’s right there, and she’s looking at him with a quiet sort of desperation that he recognises all too well, and he doesn’t have it in him to play it cool. Not now. Not with her.

He reaches out to brush a hand over her cheek, and she leans her head into his touch, and then his lips are on hers and she’s wrapping her arms around him as if she’s drowning. She sighs and he deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, his hand sliding around to the back of her neck. His other arm is around her now, the hook pressing into her back as he holds her.

After a moment, she pulls back, breathless and flushed, her arms still around his neck. He closes his eyes and lets his head droop, forehead touching hers. She feels damn good, pressed up against him like this, and he wraps his good arm around her as well, gratified when she sighs again.

“You missed me,” he says, voice low, and opens his eyes to find her looking at him like she’s trying to read something inside him.

“Maybe a little,” she says, and it’s so _Emma_ that he leans forward to kiss her again, just a peck on the lips.

“Maybe a lot,” he amends, which coaxes another smile from her, but he knows that this doesn’t really solve anything. Not yet. “Do me a favour, love. Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t.” She’s serious now, eyes boring into his. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I know what it’s like to be led on and let down.” She hesitates, looks down, then back at him. “I mean this, Killian. I want this. Us.” Another brief hesitation. “You.”

He can tell that she means it, even if it’s probably going to take a while to sink in. He already feels like he’s about to overflow, he wants to drop to his knees and yell from the rooftops and just wrap her up in his arms and hold her. He swallows down all those impulses, and smiles, brushing her hair back from her face like he’s yearned to do over and over during the past week. “You have me.”

She pulls him back towards her and kisses him, hard this time. He follows, until she’s backed up against the wall of the diner and still pulling him closer, kissing him like she’s been just as starved for his touch as he has been for hers.

He runs his hand down her back and along her thigh, before hoisting her up, the manoeuvre made a little awkward by the hook. She takes it in stride, grinning at him, her hands braced on his shoulders. When he starts tracing the line of her neck with his mouth, she actually whimpers, and he has to bite back a growl when her legs wrap around him, pressing into his lower back.

Her fingers on his jaw bring his head back up, and she kisses him again. He shifts, pressing closer, freeing his hand so he can run it along the curve of her waist and just hold her there, smiling into her kiss.

“I missed you, too,” he murmurs.

“Mhmm.” She’s running her fingers through his hair, a soft smile on her face, and he still can’t contain everything he’s feeling.

“Thought I’d lost you,” he goes on, pressing another kiss to her lips. “Gods, Emma.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, touches her forehead to his. “Me, too.”

“Never.” He captures her lips with his again, kisses her until she moans into his mouth and nips at his bottom lip and how in the world did he ever make it a week without this, without her? “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I promise,” she tells him. “No more running. I mean it.”

That has him smiling again. And even Granny calling for him and making them both scramble to attention before she pokes her head out the door can’t ruin his mood. Especially when he sees that Emma looks just as dazed as he feels, colour high in her cheeks, and his heart skips a little at the fact that _he_ put that look on her face.

And he can't seem to get it off his own features either.


End file.
